Right in the middle of our talk, a boy comes in, close to my age but very wide-eyed. Asking for a pokémon. My father, as expected, said no. Passed the task on to me. Didn’t even ask for permission.
I accepted to help the poor kid, felt sorry for him, he didn’t need to suffer because of my family issues.
And help him I did. We entered a patch of tall grass out on route 102 and the kid went to work. Didn’t need any help. He even managed the pokémon the gym leader borrowed him as if it was his own. Flawless.
The kid seemed a natural, and lucky too if you judge him by the first pokémon that appeared.
And he caught it on the first try. A Ralts as his first pokémon. And he didn’t even want be a trainer, he just wanted a friend.
We went back to the gym, to return the pokémon. The kid was very polite, and said farewell. Only when he darted out the door did I realize I didn’t even get his name.
And the gym leader, well he just sent me onto the next town. Rustboro.
So I left, no words of comfort or encouragement… not even a goodbye.
We will see if he treats me better when I beat him.